Rose's POV
Men surrounded me, their eyes blazing with fury as if I'd just slaughtered one of their own.
One of them stepped forward, cautiously closing the distance. He'd witnessed how brutally I'd taken down their leader, so his apprehension was justified. Clutched in his hand was a knife, glinting menacingly under the dim pub lights. I knew he didn't plan to kill me—not outright. The blade was a psychological weapon, meant to make me feel threatened and vulnerable. Humans have an instinctive fear of weapons, often trembling and losing their nerve in their presence. He was counting on that fear to give him the upper hand.
Unfortunately for them, a mere knife posed no threat to me.
As he closed in, he thrust his hand forward, the knife aimed directly at me. I swiftly seized his hand, yanking him towards me with force. With a swift and deliberate motion, I used my knee to snap his arm.
"Agh!"
